Mascara Meets Jeff - (Temporary) One-Shot!
by ClareNinja
Summary: Fast forward to when Mascara is a teenager, having lived with Slendy for over a decade. After hearing rustling outside her window, she starts getting suspicious - and with good reason... (This is just a one-shot, nothing fancy, I'll probs edit it soon. :D)


Killer? _Mascara meets Jeff_

Shhf… Shhf… Shhf…

The rustles outside my bedroom window again. They're starting to haunt me, almost literally – every time I go outside I hear them. Whether they're in my head or actual shuffling noises on the earth, I can't tell. But I don't want to entertain the concept of insanity.

"Slendy?"

He's at the doorframe in an instant, just like always. _Is something the matter, Mascara?_

Though I smile at his concerned tone, I hesitate to speak. My complaint is the equivalent of the monster underneath one's bed – something only little kids should be afraid of. But I know I can trust Slendy, even if I do come off as being strange.

Taking a breath, I say, "This might sound weird, but… there's been rustling outside my window for the past several nights. And sometimes I hear it when I'm just outside doing my own thing. I don't know what it is or even if it's something to worry about but—"

_Mascara, it's all right._ That voice of Slendy's is smiling, even if he doesn't have a mouth to show it.

I exhale. "Okay. Sorry."

With two long strides, he reaches the window. _Rustling, you said?_

"Y-yeah."

_Maybe it's just a squirrel or something._

"It could be. I might've just not noticed it before, but… I don't know. For some reason I don't think it's squirrels making that noise."

_What do you think, then?_

"I just don't know."

His blank face turns toward me. After a moment, he asks, _Would you like me to stay here for a while?_

"If… if that's alright with you…"

_Of course it is._

Soon, his sleek white hand is resting on my face, its coolness instantly soothing. Gently, he strokes my cheek, and it doesn't take long for my eyelids to start falling. I'm still conscious of his hand there on my head as my mind finally drifts off and I reach slumber.

The next thing I know, the coolness of Slendy's hand on my face is replaced by an unwelcome chill, and I'm wide awake, my legs curled up beneath the covers. My gym shorts and tank top are nothing against the cold that's now filling my room. I shiver, pulling the sheets closer around my bare shoulders. Squeezing my eyes shut in a weird sort of effort to try and get to sleep is futile, and I let out a tiny whimper, barely audible, as I stare at the wall opposite me.

Then I hear it.

"Shhh..."

My breath catches in my throat. That was close by. But where…?

"Go to sleep…"

My eyes widen, even in the extreme dimness of my room - where the owner of that voice is hidden. I dare to glance at the window. It's wide open.

That voice came from behind me, but I'm afraid to turn around. Still, something tells me it'd be better to know what I'm afraid of as opposed to never finding out.

I whirl my head towards the voice, and the figure isn't difficult to make out. It's standing in the corner of my room in black pants and a white hoodie, stained here and there, though I can't make out what the marks are from. The hood is pulled over the figure's face, and black, shaggy hair hangs out from underneath. For a moment, I wonder why I'm afraid – this person doesn't seem too intimidating—

Until the moonlight makes a gleam near the figure's hip, where a sharp silver knife is clenched in its hand.

I want to scream, but it happens in reverse and I end up gasping loudly. But even that is cut off when the figure suddenly lunges forward and leaps onto my bed, sitting upright on its knees directly next to me. I try to squirm away, but a cold hand snaps out and grips my right upper arm, pinning it to the bed. My breathing is becoming rapid as I see that treacherous knife gleaming in the person's hand, and I stare at it in horror.

Then the white hood falls from the person's head, and the black hair moves to reveal a teenage boy's face. But its features are unlike any I've ever seen, and upon seeing them I inhale sharply once more.

The face's flesh is pale, almost white, and matte. A nose barely shows at the center, only barely protruding past the texture-less face. The eyes are large and weirdly dark, with no brows above them; they have odd black outlines all the way around and they don't blink once, just stare straight at me – no… _into _me. But the strangest feature on this person's face is his mouth. It's been extended, carved into a strange, menacing sort of grin, though from the looks of it it's been that way for a while. The edges of the cuts on either side are jagged but healed over; past them, I can see the pink inside of the mouth and white teeth, gritted together as this insane-looking boy brings the knife to eye level.

"Go to sleep," he says, more to the blade than to me this time.

This guy is terrifying me. For a fleeting moment I wonder why Slendy isn't coming to help me, but then I realize he's probably on patrol in the woods right now.

I can only whisper out of pure shock, but I ask, "What do you want?"

The wide eyes look back into mine, fierce and entirely mad. "I want you to go to sleep."

That phrase again. "What? Why?!"

The hand with the knife twitches. I fear it's going to fall upon me as the boy responds with a simple "shh."

"What do you want?" I repeat, a bit frantically but sounding more frustrated than anything. "Why are you—"

My words are cut off as the boy pushes the flat edge of his knife against my neck, his free hand releasing my arm and landing firmly next to my face. With the weapon up against my jaw, I'm forced to look straight into his face as he hovers, nearly directly above me.

"You're like the rest of them."

"What—who?"

"You're a nice person."

This is getting stranger by the second. Is he complimenting me before he kills me? Is that his ritual or something? I have no idea, and I squirm uncomfortably, but the boy only presses the knife closer to my throat.

"What are you talking about?" I manage to whisper loudly.

"I used to be a nice person."

I'd ask another question but even I'm noticing that it's been futile thus far, so I decide to simply refrain and see if the guy keeps talking. And he does.

"I had a mommy and a daddy. And Liu. I had Liu too. He was a nice person. He stood up for me. But I didn't want him to. He went to jail because of me. He went to _jail!_"

The last word comes out in a hiss, and the unsharpened edge of the boy's blade shoves against my jaw, making me struggle not to choke. Luckily, the boy pulls the blade back just enough for me to swallow easily, and he continues speaking.

"He shouldn't have. He _shouldn't _have… I beat up the kids, not Liu. I beat them up. They tried to steal from Liu. But I beat them up. Stabbed them. I broke a kid's nose. I broke his wrist too. And when the cops came… Liu. Liu went to jail. Liu told them he did it. And… and mommy believed him. And daddy. And I told them it was me. It was _me!_" The weapon presses up against my jaw again as the boy grits his teeth visciously. His grotesquely extended lips shift slightly with his breathing, which is becoming heavier as he continues talking.

"Liu went to jail for me. I should have gone. I… I should have…" I feel the knife slide away from my throat as the boy adjusts his arms, moving slightly backwards. His wide eyes stare at a point somewhere above my head for a few seconds, his strange mouth forming words that come out as a mixture of breath and unintelligible murmurs. I'm about to try and ask something – or rather, to simply say "um" – when he suddenly growls and brings the knife back up to my throat. Thankfully, it's the flat edge that once again meets my skin, though it's still as uncomfortable as ever.

"But they… _they _weren't done. They came back. The kids that tried to steal from him. They came… Randy. The leader. He wanted to fight me. To finish it. Him. _He _was why Liu… _Him…_"

I've realized for some time now that this boy must be reliving something right here in front of me – or rather, right here almost-on-top of me. And something tells me not many people have heard the story.

Or maybe they just haven't lived through the entire duration of the tale.

"He wanted to fight. Broke a bottle over my head. Kicked me in the face. They had guns, shot everywhere. Shot at me. He yelled at me. 'Get up. Fight me. _Fight me._'" Another brief press of the blade to my neck. "And I fought. And I killed him. Punched him until he died. Blood… His friends. They followed me, shot at me, but I ran. Bathroom, found a towel rack. Took one down. Then the other. But the bleach… must've been above me… fell over me. Covered me… my eyes… _agh…_" The boy winces as though he can still feel bleach burning his eyes. Now I know why they seem so oddly dark. His pupils, enlarged because of the dimness of the room, make a bold contrast against his bright white iris and eyeball.

But the story still isn't over. "Last one fell, but had a lighter. He saw me. The bleach, the alcohol. Lit me on fire, and I couldn't… I burned, my whole body on fire… And then they took me to the hospital. I couldn't see, cast on my face. And when it came off… my face… It was so…"

I'm expecting a word like "horrible" or "awful" or "scary."

"…beautiful."

'Kay. Definitely not on the same path.

"But Mommy and Daddy didn't think so. No - and neither did Liu. They were scared of me. My face. I was happy…so happy. Went home and looked at my face in the mirror. Beautiful… but I couldn't keep smiling. I didn't want to stop. So I made me smile. It hurt…it hurt, but I was happy. And my eyes. I couldn't keep them open. They tried to close! I didn't want to close my eyes. I wanted to see my face. So I burned back the eyelids. Tried to keep them from closing. It worked for a while. But then Mommy came in…saw my face. She was scared. I didn't want her to be scared. Aren't I beautiful? Yes. She said I was beautiful. She wanted to show Daddy… _no she didn't!_"

This is the fiercest his tone has become throughout this entire session of rambling. His face, with his permanent, grotesque grin and singed, blackened eyelids, is now mere inches from mine as he bends over me. The back of the knife presses close to my throat and I have a hard time stifling a much-needed cough.

"She didn't… She didn't…"

It takes me a moment to recognize the change in the boy's voice. It's wavering, cracking slightly, and the hand holding the blade is beginning to shake.

"She went to go get Daddy, but she didn't. I heard her. Get the gun…"

Get the gun? Oh my…he can't mean his own parents…

"Mommy didn't know I heard. But I did. I had my knife. She was mean to me. She didn't love me. She wanted me DEAD!"

His shout makes me wince, but he continues anyway, the cracks in his voice increasing.

"So…" The boy takes a deep, shuddering breath, and says in a menacing whisper, "I killed her. You lied, Mommy. I killed her. One stab. Then Daddy. I killed him. He was going to kill me. But I killed him first! And… Liu… I killed him too. Quickly. I didn't want him to hurt too long…He started crying. Don't kill me, Jeff. Don't kill me. Please don't kill me!"

Jeff, so he's revealed his own name to be, is now shaking violently all over. I can see his fist clenching around the weapon, and his eyes are shining as he comes to the conclusion of his tale:

"Go to sleep, Liu. Just go to sleep… GO TO SLEEP!"

On the last word, the boy thrusts the knife straight downward. I don't even have time to cry out as his arm comes swinging towards my head-

Silence, save for rapid breathing not far from my head. I realize I have my eyes squeezed shut, and open them slowly, cautiously.

The knife that was previously clenched in Jeff's hand is to the left of my head, shoved into the pillow, the distance between my face and it unbelievably short. I give a long exhale, releasing the breath I'd been holding, and lift my head ever so precariously to see Jeff laying on top of me, a crumpled body with a shaggy black head right against my chest.

His breathing is gasping, his body still trembling, and his hands clutch at the sides of my clothes. I knew that if someone were to come in right at this moment, this would look anything but innocent, but at the moment it doesn't really matter. I'm alive…and I have a very troubled soul on my hands.

Or rather, on _me._

I feel confident enough that Jeff isn't going to kill me, so I try to straighten, but his fists tighten at my sides and he presses his face into my chest. I don't know whether I feel violated or not in this situation, but I find it hard to believe that this guy would be thinking anything along those lines - let alone anything a sane human would think. Releasing a small sigh, I lay back down and let Jeff calm down. His breathing gradually slows, and the trembling fades bit by bit.

I wonder what I should do now. Ten minutes ago, I had no idea who this guy was. Now I have a feeling I know nearly everything there is to know about this guy. His name is Jeff, and he has a backstory that's soaked in blood, shed by his own hands.

Impulsively, I consider saying something to him. But then I wonder whether he'd listen to me or not. Would he jump on me again? Retrieve the knife and maybe do the job he meant to? Despite the risk, I decide to give it a chance, and I say the only thing I can think to - his name.

"J-Jeff?"

It comes out softly and a bit hoarsely, but Jeff's head snaps up to look at me. I lift mine as far as I can while still lying down, and my eyes are met sharply by wide, anxious white eyes with dark, dark pupils.

I don't know what more to say, and for too long we stay frozen in place, looking at each other. He can go for much longer without blinking, and for some reason I feel like I shouldn't blink either but I can't help it. Adrenaline hasn't ceased to course through me, and I'm starting to get nervous again, wondering what Jeff will do. He hasn't done anything yet, of course - but knowing his past makes me question what exactly he could do to me if he wanted. My heart is starting to pound quite hard, and upon chancing a glance down at my chest, I can see the beat through my clothes.

I look back up at Jeff, but it seems he was following my gaze, and now he's looking at my chest. In spite of myself, I blush, feeling self-conscious, but I don't say anything. After a minute, Jeff ceases to be still, and he lifts up his pale right hand. Gingerly, he places a single fingertip at the center of my chest. Beneath it, my heart continues to race. Jeff looks at me again, and after another long stare, he speaks, his voice much less wild-sounding than before.

"You're scared."

I simply hold his gaze, not daring to say anything to that. I know that I really am scared, but if I affirm that, how will he react?

"You're scared…why are you scared?"

I don't answer, but I'm starting to see a near desperation in Jeff's eyes. Though pale and eerie to look at for as long as I have, I think I can see a sort of longing in them. He wants something. I don't know what, though… perhaps…acceptance?

"Don't be scared, Mascara," he whispers.

I give a start and can't help blurting out, if quietly, "You know my name."

Jeff gives a single nod. "Mascara."

"You…"

"I watched you," he says, his voice the polar opposite of what it was before. "I saw you. You were happy. I wanted to be happy like you." His gaze drops momentarily. "My smile isn't happy anymore. I want to be happy."

"Well… w-what-?"

"You're a nice person. I want to be nice again."

"Jeff-"

"I won't kill you, Mascara." That's as calm and normal as Jeff's voice has sounded so far. "Don't be scared."

I begin to stammer a reply, still a little taken aback, but Jeff is repositioning himself, moving his legs over to one side, bringing his arms in front of him and laying down right next to me. Just before he rests his head, he looks at me.

"Don't be scared, Mascara. Just go to sleep."

With that, he lays his head sideways on my chest and closes his eyes.

For a moment, I keep my head off the pillow in wonder. For one thing, those words he repeated from earlier - "go to sleep" - sounded completely innocent, and obviously were quite literal. It amazes me that a boy with so much blood on his hands could seem so childish, so naive only minutes later.

And for another thing, I have no idea how he's going to get to sleep with his ear right near my heart. It's probably so loud right now, still racing from adrenaline.

Regardless, I let my head fall back. I don't really know what's going on right now, but I think I'll be all right until Slendy gets back. And when he finds me - when he finds Jeff… he'll know what to do. Eventually.

I take a downward glance at Jeff's shaggy black hair, and before I can stop myself I've brought my left hand up to rest on his head. Jeff doesn't move, but I hear a small sigh come from his dozing figure. I smirk a little. Who knows, I decide. Maybe, as weird as things are right now, they'll turn out for good in the end.

As I drift off to sleep, I'm conscious of the fact that my hand remains resting on Jeff's head - and before slumber completely overtakes me, I can't help but smile.


End file.
